


To Leave Some Part Of You

by Nixie_DeAngel



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of a Battle, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gree's POV, Happy, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mentioned violence, Off Screen Violence, Pre-Relationship, Some time early in The Clone Wars, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nixie_DeAngel/pseuds/Nixie_DeAngel
Summary: Oh, oh that’s right, he was thinking about the thing. The thing that was underneath his head. The thing that was soft, but scratchy, that smelled nice underneath the sweat and dirt.Or, Gree and Luminara share a moment after he's injured.
Relationships: CC-1004 | Gree/Luminara Unduli
Comments: 19
Kudos: 72
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	To Leave Some Part Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brightstream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightstream/gifts).



> I hope you enjoyed this!

* * *

He’s on something, he thinks. Or well, his head at least, is on something, he amends. Because he thinks he feels rocks and ground digging into the space where his armor should be.

It’s...

It’s… nice. 

The thing his head is on. 

Nice and soft, but scratchy too. Firm but gentle as well, Gree muses sluggishly. His mind felt full of cotton and clouds, like he was trying to swim through thick sludge. But it was nice, nice and soft, whatever the thing beneath his cheek was. 

And the smell, it was… It was faint, muted under sweat and dirt, but he thought he could make out fresh rain showers, and mint. Maybe.

What was he thinking again?

Oh, oh that’s right, he was thinking about the thing. The thing that was underneath his head. The thing that was soft, but scratchy, that smelled nice underneath the sweat and dirt. 

The thing that was… that was… what?

“My leg,” a soft voice murmurs above him. It’s low and soft, like a secret only for him to hear.

“S’nice,” he rumbles low. His voice, more slurs than speaks, he thinks. “Like it,” he adds.

He doesn’t know why, but the voice chuckles, quiet and strained in response to his words. But it’s lovely, oh so lovely. He thinks he might want to spend the rest of his life listening to that chuckle.

“Should do that more,” he croaks out. Smacking his lips together, he moves to shift but hands, warm and small, still him before he can try to turn his body. 

“Don’t move, Commander,” the voice says, firmly, “We, we do not know.” 

He hears teeth click together sharp and quick and wonders if he’s done something wrong. If he’s upset the voice somehow. 

“Won’t move,” he promises. He likes the warmth, the soft and gentleness. He likes the way the voice’s hands pet through his hair, the way they seem to keep him anchored into wakefulness. Is that what they’re doing? Keeping him from slipping back into the black nothingness he’d been floating in? Not that it much mattered, because now all that did, was keeping the warmth happy. 

Keeping the voice talking to him.

“And I shall endeavor to do so, Commander Gree,” they agree.

“S’my name? Gree?”

He feels _something_ not like the voice but also somehow exactly like the voice, gently gliding along his face, around his head and down his back. It’s… gentle, like fingertips just barely brushing against him. He decides he doesn't much mind it. The touch of whatever the voice is doing to him. 

It’s nice. The touch thing the voice is doing to him. It’s nice, he decides. He likes it.

“I’m using the force, Gree,” the voice explains to him. It’s quiet for a moment, before the voice continues on. “Do you. Can you recall who I am, Commander?”

“Course I do,” he rumbles and tries to peel his eyes open but finds he can’t. They feel crusty, like they were glued to together. He makes a questioning noise. 

“Just a moment, Gree,” she, the voice, murmurs. He feels her shift around and then gently run something wet and soft across his eyes. “I thought I’d gotten all of the dirt and blood earlier. Apologies.”

“S’okay,” he agrees easily and smacks his lips together. He shifts little, without meaning too, but stills himself at the sound of protest the voice makes. “S’general,” he pipes up after a small beat. “S’your name.” He quiets, makes an irritated huff, and then continues on, “Well, it’s part of it, your name that is. It’s… it’s Lumi’nara Un’duli,” he butchers, but grins cause he knows it. Knows his generals name. Though, though he's not supposed to _say_ it. “S’not polite to say that though. Gots to just call you general. Safer that way.”

He feels her fingers glide gently against his scalp once again, and lets out a soft, quiet little moan at the touch. They stay like that, settled into silence and warmth. Gree finds he doesn’t want to leave this little bubble they’re in. 

Though, he does find himself wondering how they got here. But, he doesn't want to ask, doesn't want to ruin this moment. So instead, he settles in, and simply basks in it until he’s told he can no longer have it. 

“Gree?” Luminara calls, soft and gentle. He lets out a soft hum of acknowledgement. “You said it was impolite, speaking my name. Why is that? Why is it safer that way?”

“Can’t let you know,” he says, simple and honest. “Can’t let you know how I feel,” he continues, voice dropping into a near whisper. “How you make me feel.”

He can hear the sound she makes, high and questioning, like what he says catches her off guard. “How do I make you feel?” she prompts, voice strangled and uneven.

“Warm. Safe and warm. Like,” he pauses, lips pursing together to think before he goes on. “Like you’re a guiding light through the storm. The sun through parting clouds, the warmth to be found in the icy fields of Hoth.” He finds himself unable to continue, with small, gently callused fingers suddenly pressing against his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” she says roughly, “I should not have asked such a question of you. Not in the state you’re in. I’m sorry.”

What state is he in, he wonders, that his general would apologize for asking him what he meant.

“Your head wound, Gree,” she answers, gently. “You were caught in the edge of a blast that sent you straight into the side of a rock wall,” she explains. “You are concussed. Not in your right mind. I should not have asked you such a thing.”

Oh, oh that explains why his head feels like he’s swimming through sludge. Why his head feels like clouds and cotton is stuffed inside of his bucket. “S’okay,” he says eventually, his lips brushing against the pads of her finger tips. “Can just ask me when I’m not all… like this then.”

"I," she starts to say. 

"Can have Ern remind me. Cause you won't," he adds, accidentally cutting her off. "Won't do it. Cause, ah, cause something." He knows there's reasons why but he, he can't recall them. So. But yeah, he'll call out to Ern, in a moment, to remind him to ask the General about asking _him_ about his feelings. Yeah. He'll do that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Nixie! You can find me where I post the things I [create](https://nixies-creations.tumblr.com/), or at my main blog [here](http://nixie-deangel.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
